No one gives you the heads up when the ‘other woman’ in his life aka his wife
calls you. Earlier this year I thought I had met that guy that you don’t mind
settling down with. Everything was amazing, I was on cloud nine, I was walking
on sunshine, I was in love and we all know in life that one thousand men will
come but one will always stand out. I was over the moon until his wife called
me one Saturday morning and boy didn’t the floodgates of my eyes open, it felt
like one of those Nairobi days when it starts out bright and beautiful but the
downpour that pounds a couple of hours later leaves you cold and wet. So did I
know he was married? Of course not, as a matter of fact I never saw it coming,
it hit me like a brick on my face, or like something cold was thrown on my
face, it bolted me to reality faster than I could say ‘what!’ Never in my life
did I think that people could be so cold, manipulative and cunning.
It all started in December, it was not
even love at first sight, but when we went out on that first date, I was
smitten. My first date check list is simple, if I order a drink and the guy insists
that I order something to eat as well, for me that guy is a keeper. He got everything right on date number one,
the restaurant, the ambience, the words, and the super cute smile, he was nice,
he was considerate, he made me feel at ease. It was a wonderful date number
one, then there was date number two, he had everything planned out, he got it
right as well, a nice romantic lunch and then a walk, and he was really
considerate, I was smitten, but then I stumbled across a photo of a really
young child in his wallet as he was showing me something. He had a baby, how
old? ‘She was born when he was in high school, my calculations showed that the
child was like ten years or older. That should have been the first red light;
the girl in the photo looked younger than five, but it wasn’t I know one two
many people who got babies in High School.
He would call like two times in day, we
would text a lot, on date number two he told me where he stayed and asked if I
wanted to go and meet his mother, I knew his friends and I also talked to his
cousin and we would walk holding hands near where he stayed, so when his wife
called I was shocked. Even before she called I was beginning to have my doubts
not about him being married but about the child, because later on he lowered
her age to seven and I asked him about that and he had the perfect excuse.
Anyway his wife called me that Saturday morning, my heart was racing as she
said those words ‘Nani is my husband and we have a three year old daughter.’ I
was sad, I was angry, I wondered why anyone would want to play with my emotions
like that I cried a lot and I thought that there would be no punishment good
enough for such a person. I apologized to his wife over and over again; I have
never felt so ashamed in my life. I knew something was wrong because he did not
want us to become friends on Facebook, he often called when he was outside his house but he worked late and
called me as soon as he came out of work, so that by the time he got home at
11pm I could actually get some shut eye, but even on his one off day he still
called me when he was either in a matatu or walking towards his house, or
outside coz his cousin who he claimed he lived with was watching TV. I thought
all the clues were there but when I asked, he said I was being difficult, and I
thought, I was being difficult, only to realize I was being manipulated. I asked myself, he really seemed like a
genuinely good guy, why did he lie to me.
The good news is that I got over him,
and I know that’s true because I can smile and laugh as a write this. It also
taught me a lot about my character, I learnt at times in life you will meet
people that you really like but you will have to walk away because the
relationship is wrong and at that time it will take every single ounce of strength
that you have to walk away from such a relationship. I am so
proud of myself for that.
I also learnt that at times you don’t
need explanations to move on. People talk to meeting on last time so that the
person who hurt you can explain why he did so but in life the people that hurt
you the most will offer no explanations but you have to move on because there
are sheep in wolves clothing. I don’t need any explanations, I moved on.
He changed nothing about my perception
of men, I know in life there are good men and bad men just as there are good
women and bad women. There are all types of people in this world. And yes there
are some pretty decent guys out there, I happen to know some b.t.w. I have had
men that have helped and expected nothing in return, I have some pretty cool
guy friends that I love and care about.
It’s okay to be angry and sad but only
for a little while. Months later I had already moved on. I emerged the winner
in the very end. While getting over him seem difficult in the beginning, I
actually got over him, am not hurt or wounded.
BYE
BYE TEAM CAMEROON
If there’s an African team that didn’t
deserve to play in this World Cup, that would be Cameroon. Literally, no wait…seriously,
they didn’t even qualify, well they did on a technicality. Then when they got
the golden opportunity they decided to start with some drama, men with drama
not so cool, they went on a strike and refused to go to Brazil if their
allowances and bonuses were not paid, I wish they had just let the opportunity
pass, declined to show up in Brazil. Not that its Samuel Eto’o’s work to pay
player allowances or Alexander Song’s, but they are among the world’s best paid
players, their leadership of this team could have been crucial. Once they
landed in Brazil everything went from bad to worse, here why: -
·
They
played more as individuals and not as once as a TEAM. I saw Alexander Song and Neymar
showing more team spirit than our African boys during the game. (Well in
another league, in another place, they are.)
Cameroon was a team of unequals and you bet they proved it more than
once. Their egos were way bigger than their team spirit and game, and their
side shows kept us entertained but for the one billion African fans they were
hugely a big disappointment.
·
Their game was too physical, I found it wise to say
a silent prayer every time the ‘boys’ took to the field. ‘Dear Lord, help this
team to be slow to anger…no red cards, just the yellow please…thank you.’ I
mean did you see poor Neymar pushed from the back, while he was already off the
pitch, that meaningless physical assault came out of nowhere. They were also
physical towards each other, I get it whenever a team loses at such events the tendency
is to blame another team member, but do it in the dressing room, but the golden
rule should be ‘headbutting your teammate
is not cool.’
Now that Cameroon are out of the world
cup, I would hope before the next tournament not hear about strikes, I also
hope they deal with their issues at anger management classes because in all
their games they truly deserved to loose, and most importantly, I hope they
learn to play as a team, not as big names that play for top clubs in Europe and
poorly paid home grown players.
Oh well! Adios! And please return the
bonuses, as a sign of good will.
Guys the whole world is
watching stop it
WORLD
CUP WIDOWS: I BEG TO DIFFER
Hey, I have a couple of reasons why
women should watch the world cup,
during the world cup, women are called ‘world cup widows,’ plus a whole
lot of other unkind names, but that should not be the case as I am going to prove,
women fans have so much more fun watching football than male fans, that’s
because there’s more to appreciate that the game, here goes: -
·
Football
players represent all that a woman could ever dream off, these men are at the
peak of their lives, their young, they are hot (and even if they start off
average looking, they have so much money, that they can buy any body part that
they want, teeth, hair, just ask Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney. Hey, it’s
no secret, a man with money is very attractive ‘wink wink.’ See all women love
a man who can drive their imagination wild. And in the world cup, the men come
in all shapes, sizes, ethnicities and nationalities; it’s the perfect
opportunity to admire beauty at its finest.
·
It’s
like watching a soap opera, one of the reasons women love soap operas it’s
because of the passion and emotions (hey did you see Cristiano Ronaldo when
they played Germany seems like he needed a shoulder to cry on, or Iker Casillas
after their demolition by the Netherlands, yep, his girlfriend got no kisses
that night, or the faces of the Englishmen every time their team loses, heart
wrenching, you’d think they’d be used to it by now, the hot men remind you of
the Octavios of the soap operas), the suspense (especially during penalty shoot
outs, your knee feel weak, your heart flutters as you wait for the outcome,
because at times they don’t get it) the rivalry between the villain and the
protagonist, the joy it brings when the team you’re supporting wins the joy is
immense, you just want to jump up and down, and the final match, it’s like the
final episode, someone has to lose and another has to win, it may leave you in
tears but you’ll never forget it!
·
We
all need to let out a good scream or shout every once in a while, and in a
football match we can let out a good shout especially when your team scores,
you can jump up and down and it won’t seem strange. We can let out a bit of
steam without screaming at someone and no one will think you’re strange.
·
It’s
a good way of meeting men! Now ladies visit a sport bar and spot your dream
mate. Position yourself next to him, and
find out what team he’s supporting. Now don’t talk to him during the game that
won’t be taken too well! Follow the game, know basic football lingua and use it
appropriately, be mad at the referee and the other team and let it show in your
face. Address no one in particular but show it that you’re there for the game.
You’ll end up being the goal scorer.
·
For
the love of the game, football is amazing, and I don’t say this as a fan, I
also say this as someone who has played football, played in a tournament where
my team won as the rains poured, I did not care that my hair was natural or
that it took me weeks to finally manage to comb it, the adrenaline was amazing,
I did not even want to be substituted, and I have also played in a game where
we lost 5 nil, I literally cried. So I understand the game inside and out. In
campus I risked walking from Lower State House Hall (I can’t remember the name
of the men’s hostel) to Hall 12 at times past midnight, alone, because I had to
watch a football match.
See ladies, don’t be a world cup widow,
let’s give our men the half Monalisa smile, let them think they are enjoying
the World Cup more than you. Yet for us, it’s a fiesta and the pleasure it
brings us, no man will ever understand.
WORLD CUP 2014
GROUP STAGES ROUND ONE AWARDS
The most anticipated sports events the ‘World
Cup’ is here and it’s been nothing but spectacular, mostly and all the teams
have played at least a game each, so because of being so entertaining and
presenting their countries so well, awards must be given, so here goes: -
·
Netherlands
(Most interesting team so far), 
thanks to the Flying Dutchman for reminding
us just how beautiful this game is supposed to be.
·
Joachim
Loew, German Team Coach (Hottest coach of the tournament, the guy is yummy, I
doubt this will change any time soon) 
If you don’t agree there’s something wrong
with you!
·
Neymar,
The Brazilian Forward/Winger
(For being
the hottest player of the tournament, move over Cristiano Ronaldo, there
nothing hotter like a man who can swing his hips and is easy on the eyes.)
·
Cameroon
(Most disappointing African team), come on Samuel Etoo and co. I wish they
would have carried the same passion they had when demanding for better ‘wages’
from their government. Hope it will not be a case of ‘we came, we saw and we’re
conquered.’
·
Ivory
Coast fans (For supporting your team the best way you know how, shaking your
tushi’s like they knew they hot, which they were.)
·
Japanese
fans (Picking up after yourselves, is there a book Kenyan parents can buy,
because some really need some tips, case point have you ever met some of those
rude parents with equally rude kids in public transport who will not give you
their unpaid seat until the tout tells them to!)
·
Team
Brazil (is my team for the ‘diva’ award,
they went down so quickly, and stayed there, someone cc this to Catherine Alouch,
you got some competition girlfriend.
·
Nigeria
verses Iran (boring team award) who said a draw has to be boring, I dozed off a
couple of times. I mean the Nigeria we know would have entertained us to the
final minute even if it meant losing!
·
England
(for the most obvious team of the tournament so far, overrated,
underperforming, and mostly disappointing! That was so obvious, despite
changing tactics, hiring Steven Hawking a Theoretical Physicist you still
managed to disappoint as usual! Yet we always expect more from this team.
·
Brazil:
(Patriotism Award, both team and fans, singing the national anthem from their
hearts, 
. Maybe one day we will all be proudly
Kenyan, coz right now we are not, we are proudly tribal, if our team did make
it, we would be worried about what tribe was not represented and which one was
over represented.
·
Didier
Drogba: (He still got it Award). For proving that he still got what it takes to
take his country forward and make Africa proud.
·
All
African fans: (Forever Hopeful Award) for always hoping that ‘this world cup
will be our world cup!’ One day it will be an African World Cup!’
More awards will follow soon. Keep
watching the world cup!
‘R u home
yet?’
The short message asked.
Muthoni looked around, in the cover of
darkness there was nothing she could really see. Her heart beating as she
quickly resumed searching for her house keys in her over disorganized handbag,
she quickly found them as she quickly opened her house, with lightening speed
went inside and locked the door behind her. She quickly looked around her self
contained two bedroom house to see if anyone had managed to sneak in, even the
bathroom was not spared. She checked behind all the doors, the paranoia was
getting the best of the light skinned young woman, she went back to the sitting
room and sat down, she started to lay down on the somewhat expensive sofa next
to the coffee table where there was a picture of her and fiancé on their
engagement day, a rather good looking young couple, but she seemed to remember
something, she quickly grabbed a padlock to lock the sitting room door from
inside.
‘What if there was a fire inside and you’ve locked
yourself inside?’
‘Where would the fire come from?’
‘I am not planning to cook’
The
war inside her mind was eternal.
‘The gas could be leaking, the fridge is connected
to the power, and there could be an electrical fault!’
‘Soni, stop being paranoid, what is wrong with you?’
All these thoughts only caused her mind
to wander and she seemed to bring herself to a constant state of despair. She
walked into the kitchen, padlock still in her hand, she smelled to see if there
was any gas leak but there was none, and it was tightly shut. She stood in front
of the fridge not sure of what she supposed to do.
‘What do I do?’ She wondered.
She has never felt so unsettled in her
life, and it had all started a couple of days earlier, after the biggest fight
ever with her boyfriend, he wanted to introduce her to his parents formally,
but she was unsure about it, something held her back, maybe it was all the
unexplained whispering that took place every other time she had visited or the ‘thanks
for accepting our son with all his faults.’ Statements and the tone and
manner in which they were delivered, Richard assured her that she was reading too
much into the statement but there was nothing to worry her as much. Maybe she
should not have been too trusting, but other than that Richard had done nothing
to make her suspicious, until after the argument that night, he did not even
drop her home, she took a taxi, that’s when the short messages from someone
claiming to be Rich’s cousin started. At first she responded, he convinced her
to reconcile with Rich but he was not picking her calls and for a whole week,
there was deathly silent. Then he started disclosing all that they had done
together with Rich, and that unsettled her a lot.
She walked back to the living room
placing the padlock on the small glass table before laying on the sofa a
hopeless mess. Even before she could settle there a gentle knock on the door,
she looked at her wall clock, it was almost 9 o’clock, who could be knocking,
her phone started ringing, she felt her heart stop, it was a text message, the
knocking seemed to get fainter as she picked her phone, her hands shaking with
absolute fear.
‘If I cam 2
visit wud u opn the door for me?’
She
quickly dropped her smart phone as she dropped on the sofa a dejected mess, it
was all getting too much for her, and why wasn’t Richard returning any of her
calls, or messages, it was all his fault. The knocking started again, startling
her stressed out heart.
‘Who could it be?’ she wondered
out loudly.
She
slowly opened the door. ‘No one can hurt
me in such a place; there are too many people in this place.’ She tried to
comfort herself.
‘Mercy!’ it was the
caretaker’s voice.
‘Mwangi what do
you want?’
she felt her heart beating gently again as she took a deep breath.
She studied the rather odd looking face
of their caretaker, he had been the caretaker for the past two years, the
previous caretaker having been fired for disturbing the women in the building,
he gave them no rest, but Mwangi was no different, he was always looking for
ways to make quick money and he thought that women were his answer to financial
freedom, he seemed to think a little bit too highly of himself, which Muthoni
felt was an under estimation, he was nothing to write home about, his face
apart from being odd looking, was sure enough to scare someone in the cover of
darkness, even the moon light could not make it prettier and his breath always
leaked of cigarette mixed with cheap alcohol.
‘Nataka kunsaidia wewe.’ He smiled
revealing his badly discolored teeth. ‘ire shinda yako.’ He added in very
bad Swahili.
‘Mchana ulikuwa unafanya nini?’ she asked. ‘Niliambia
Ciru akuite ukakataa kuja.’ She finished off, referring to the young
woman who cleaned her house and did her laundry.
‘Mimi hupeda kufanya kasi ushiku.’ He said
cheekily to Muthoni’s disgust.
She
contemplated whether to let him in or not as the cold breeze blew past her
light skinned cheeks.
‘Asha nione tu!’ he requested
her.
She led the way to the bathroom, Mwangi
studied the leak from under the bathroom sink, the water leakage was not a lot
but it was enough to cause Muthoni her comfort. Her bright brown eyes watched
his every move, though he seemed not to even understand what he doing. As soon
as he finished she walked him to the door.
‘hamapatii mimi shakura?’ he asked
revealing his stained teeth again.
‘Mwangi umesema fundi anakuja lini?’ she asked him
holding on to the door, she was now losing her cool.
‘Keso.’ He responded. ‘lakini wewe ni msisana mrembo.’ He went
on. ‘manaishi na nani hapa? Mimi nawesha
eka wewe joto!’
She
closed the door without responding. ‘Idiot!’
her heart beat with an unmatched rage.
She went on her knees on her beautiful Turkish
brown carpet, she picked her phone up which was now in pieces, she quickly put
back the battery as she sat on her sofa, she was not doing all that badly for a
young woman, her hard work had paid off, she worked for a multinational
company, she was dating an equally successful man, who seemed to totally adore
her and he had been at her side for the past one year, he was the one! A
beautiful smile lit across her face, making the beautiful girl even more
pretty. He had really charmed his way into her heart, life was good, money was
in abundance and so was love.
She
scrolled through the messages only to find that the man had sent her some more
messages.
I hop al my
messages aren’t scaring you
She
opened the next
Frm wht my cuzo
says abt u, I sense you
R very
beautiful?
She
read the third
I wish u were
mine, I cud treat u way beta
There
was a fourth
Tak to him, he
seems very sad that u r nt talking to him
She
dialed Richard’s number, it rang but he was not picking, she rang several times
before deciding to send him a text.
Babe …
She started, unsure of what she wanted
to say to him, she felt angry and frustrated that he was ignoring her. Maybe
something had happened to him, after all he had also not been on facebook for
close to a week, what if the man presumably sending her messages had done
something to him, but his younger sister was posting rather happy messages on
FB, others that included what her brother had said to make her laugh.
‘Rich’ she deleted
what she had written before.
‘I am sorry; I
know I was a bit rude to you about
visiting my
parents, please call me and let’s talk about it.’
She waited for him to reply, but thirty
minutes later there was nothing. She tried calling him again but he was not
picking her calls. Maybe something had happened to him, he had never ignored
all the while they had been together, it was out of character. She went to bed
waiting for him to call a restless night it would be, she was losing the love
of her life and she had no idea what she was going to do. She decided to send
him one more text in the midst of all the tossing and turning.
Rich, I love
you…please let’s talk
She
hesitated before sending the text.
The next morning Muthoni got ready, took
her handbag as she made her way to her favourite restaurant. It was in one of
those places that she had met Richard. He seemed busy on his lap top, but she
could not help notice how cute he seemed. She quickly put one her earphones and
was soon in another world as she had a mango juice her favourite one. Then it
happened, their eyes met, she quickly turned away.
‘Our eyes didn’t meet!’ he confessed a
couple of months later. ‘I was amazed at
this crazy hot girl, who was shaking her head to whatever songs she was
listening to.’
She
smiled. ‘It wasn’t that bad.’
‘The
head shaking was intense.’ He exaggerated.
She laughed, remembering how amazing it
was to know Richard from nothing to feeling like she had known him her entire life.
As she sat down in her favourite restaurant, she could not help but remember
all the good times they had together, everything they had done together,
hiking, movies, any fun thing you could name they had done it, she loved his company.
Yet it was not love at first sight, that day he had said hi but her heart
belonged to someone else, but as time went on she had fallen hopelessly in love
with him, and they had everything planned out for their first year anniversary,
a romantic weekend in getaway in Naivasha.
‘You’re up
bright and early.’
The
terrifying feeling filled her heart again as she read the message.
‘Rich said u
tried to call him lst nit’
She
decided to reply, maybe he knew where Rich was.
‘He luvs u…hop u
knw tat’
Though
she felt terrified, she felt a little better.
He talks a lot abt
u, tat’s hw I know a lot abt
u
Maybe
he was not stalking her, but why was Rich talking to his cousin instead of
talking to her.
I love him as
well
She
responded.
He means the
world to me
She
took a sip of her juice as she waited to see where the conversation was headed.
Hw crious r u
abt my cuzo, have u been to his place? Hav u guys done it
Though
she felt uncomfortable, she decided to answer him.
I am very
serious…I have been to his place severally, I have met his paroz
She ignored the last part; it felt weird
for his cousin to want to know all that about their relationship. The
conversation went on for hours; she felt foolish talking to a complete stranger
about her first kiss with Richard as well as other intimate details, to where
she lived and her future plans with Richard. She had even told the cousin where
she worked and he had told her that currently he was not working! As she walked
to her house, the security guard opened the gate for her; she smiled at him for
the first time. ‘Thank you!’ maybe everything was going to be ok. She saw the
caretaker and immediately thought of calling Rich again but he was not picking,
hope quickly disappeared but his cousin sent her a text again.
‘So u n
Rich r gettin married? Lucky u! He’s very hot u know.’
It
made no sense, all the while it seemed like Rich’s male cousin was in love with
him.
‘What your name?
Are you really his cousin?’
She
asked as she bumped into a young woman carrying a small knife and an apple on
one hand and texting with the other as she made her way to fourth floor flat.
‘I am so sorry.’ She said as
their eyes met.
‘It’s ok.’ The young woman smiled back at
her.
Muthoni
watched as the girl walked typing something on her phone, Muthoni walked all
the way to the 4th floor and started searching for her keys again, a
message on her phone interrupted her from Rich’s cousin.
No I am not…I am
his wife, he’s my hazi
we have a two
year old son together
you can bet
there will not another in his life
Not unless I am
dead…
Muthoni dropped her phone in shock, she
looked around in distress, as tears stung her eyes, nothing made sense, the
whole world felt silence, Rich could not have been married, how could she have
missed that, and it felt like a bomb had been dropped in her heart, in her pain
she failed to notice as the same young woman from the stair case approached her
from behind with a phone on one hand and a knife on the other…
Posted by
Social Matters
8:23 PM
‘R u home
yet?’
The short message asked.
Muthoni looked around, in the cover of
darkness there was nothing she could really see. Her heart beating as she
quickly resumed searching for her house keys in her over disorganized handbag,
she quickly found them as she quickly opened her house, with lightening speed
went inside and locked the door behind her. She quickly looked around her self
contained two bedroom house to see if anyone had managed to sneak in, even the
bathroom was not spared. She checked behind all the doors, the paranoia was
getting the best of the light skinned young woman, she went back to the sitting
room and sat down, she started to lay down on the somewhat expensive sofa next
to the coffee table where there was a picture of her and fiancé on their
engagement day, a rather good looking young couple, but she seemed to remember
something, she quickly grabbed a padlock to lock the sitting room door from
inside.
‘What if there was a fire inside and you’ve locked
yourself inside?’
‘Where would the fire come from?’
‘I am not planning to cook’
The
war inside her mind was eternal.
‘The gas could be leaking, the fridge is connected
to the power, and there could be an electrical fault!’
‘Soni, stop being paranoid, what is wrong with you?’
All these thoughts only caused her mind
to wander and she seemed to bring herself to a constant state of despair. She
walked into the kitchen, padlock still in her hand, she smelled to see if there
was any gas leak but there was none, and it was tightly shut. She stood in front
of the fridge not sure of what she supposed to do.
‘What do I do?’ She wondered.
She has never felt so unsettled in her
life, and it had all started a couple of days earlier, after the biggest fight
ever with her boyfriend, he wanted to introduce her to his parents formally,
but she was unsure about it, something held her back, maybe it was all the
unexplained whispering that took place every other time she had visited or the ‘thanks
for accepting our son with all his faults.’ Statements and the tone and
manner in which they were delivered, Richard assured her that she was reading too
much into the statement but there was nothing to worry her as much. Maybe she
should not have been too trusting, but other than that Richard had done nothing
to make her suspicious, until after the argument that night, he did not even
drop her home, she took a taxi, that’s when the short messages from someone
claiming to be Rich’s cousin started. At first she responded, he convinced her
to reconcile with Rich but he was not picking her calls and for a whole week,
there was deathly silent. Then he started disclosing all that they had done
together with Rich, and that unsettled her a lot.
She walked back to the living room
placing the padlock on the small glass table before laying on the sofa a
hopeless mess. Even before she could settle there a gentle knock on the door,
she looked at her wall clock, it was almost 9 o’clock, who could be knocking,
her phone started ringing, she felt her heart stop, it was a text message, the
knocking seemed to get fainter as she picked her phone, her hands shaking with
absolute fear.
‘If I cam 2
visit wud u opn the door for me?’
She
quickly dropped her smart phone as she dropped on the sofa a dejected mess, it
was all getting too much for her, and why wasn’t Richard returning any of her
calls, or messages, it was all his fault. The knocking started again, startling
her stressed out heart.
‘Who could it be?’ she wondered
out loudly.
She
slowly opened the door. ‘No one can hurt
me in such a place; there are too many people in this place.’ She tried to
comfort herself.
‘Mercy!’ it was the
caretaker’s voice.
‘Mwangi what do
you want?’
she felt her heart beating gently again as she took a deep breath.
She studied the rather odd looking face
of their caretaker, he had been the caretaker for the past two years, the
previous caretaker having been fired for disturbing the women in the building,
he gave them no rest, but Mwangi was no different, he was always looking for
ways to make quick money and he thought that women were his answer to financial
freedom, he seemed to think a little bit too highly of himself, which Muthoni
felt was an under estimation, he was nothing to write home about, his face
apart from being odd looking, was sure enough to scare someone in the cover of
darkness, even the moon light could not make it prettier and his breath always
leaked of cigarette mixed with cheap alcohol.
‘Nataka kunsaidia wewe.’ He smiled
revealing his badly discolored teeth. ‘ire shinda yako.’ He added in very
bad Swahili.
‘Mchana ulikuwa unafanya nini?’ she asked. ‘Niliambia
Ciru akuite ukakataa kuja.’ She finished off, referring to the young
woman who cleaned her house and did her laundry.
‘Mimi hupeda kufanya kasi ushiku.’ He said
cheekily to Muthoni’s disgust.
She
contemplated whether to let him in or not as the cold breeze blew past her
light skinned cheeks.
‘Asha nione tu!’ he requested
her.
She led the way to the bathroom, Mwangi
studied the leak from under the bathroom sink, the water leakage was not a lot
but it was enough to cause Muthoni her comfort. Her bright brown eyes watched
his every move, though he seemed not to even understand what he doing. As soon
as he finished she walked him to the door.
‘hamapatii mimi shakura?’ he asked
revealing his stained teeth again.
‘Mwangi umesema fundi anakuja lini?’ she asked him
holding on to the door, she was now losing her cool.
‘Keso.’ He responded. ‘lakini wewe ni msisana mrembo.’ He went
on. ‘manaishi na nani hapa? Mimi nawesha
eka wewe joto!’
She
closed the door without responding. ‘Idiot!’
her heart beat with an unmatched rage.
She went on her knees on her beautiful Turkish
brown carpet, she picked her phone up which was now in pieces, she quickly put
back the battery as she sat on her sofa, she was not doing all that badly for a
young woman, her hard work had paid off, she worked for a multinational
company, she was dating an equally successful man, who seemed to totally adore
her and he had been at her side for the past one year, he was the one! A
beautiful smile lit across her face, making the beautiful girl even more
pretty. He had really charmed his way into her heart, life was good, money was
in abundance and so was love.
She
scrolled through the messages only to find that the man had sent her some more
messages.
I hop al my
messages aren’t scaring you
She
opened the next
Frm wht my cuzo
says abt u, I sense you
R very
beautiful?
She
read the third
I wish u were
mine, I cud treat u way beta
There
was a fourth
Tak to him, he
seems very sad that u r nt talking to him
She
dialed Richard’s number, it rang but he was not picking, she rang several times
before deciding to send him a text.
Babe …
She started, unsure of what she wanted
to say to him, she felt angry and frustrated that he was ignoring her. Maybe
something had happened to him, after all he had also not been on facebook for
close to a week, what if the man presumably sending her messages had done
something to him, but his younger sister was posting rather happy messages on
FB, others that included what her brother had said to make her laugh.
‘Rich’ she deleted
what she had written before.
‘I am sorry; I
know I was a bit rude to you about
visiting my
parents, please call me and let’s talk about it.’
She waited for him to reply, but thirty
minutes later there was nothing. She tried calling him again but he was not
picking her calls. Maybe something had happened to him, he had never ignored
all the while they had been together, it was out of character. She went to bed
waiting for him to call a restless night it would be, she was losing the love
of her life and she had no idea what she was going to do. She decided to send
him one more text in the midst of all the tossing and turning.
Rich, I love
you…please let’s talk
She
hesitated before sending the text.
The next morning Muthoni got ready, took
her handbag as she made her way to her favourite restaurant. It was in one of
those places that she had met Richard. He seemed busy on his lap top, but she
could not help notice how cute he seemed. She quickly put one her earphones and
was soon in another world as she had a mango juice her favourite one. Then it
happened, their eyes met, she quickly turned away.
‘Our eyes didn’t meet!’ he confessed a
couple of months later. ‘I was amazed at
this crazy hot girl, who was shaking her head to whatever songs she was
listening to.’
She
smiled. ‘It wasn’t that bad.’
‘The
head shaking was intense.’ He exaggerated.
She laughed, remembering how amazing it
was to know Richard from nothing to feeling like she had known him her entire life.
As she sat down in her favourite restaurant, she could not help but remember
all the good times they had together, everything they had done together,
hiking, movies, any fun thing you could name they had done it, she loved his company.
Yet it was not love at first sight, that day he had said hi but her heart
belonged to someone else, but as time went on she had fallen hopelessly in love
with him, and they had everything planned out for their first year anniversary,
a romantic weekend in getaway in Naivasha.
‘You’re up
bright and early.’
The
terrifying feeling filled her heart again as she read the message.
‘Rich said u
tried to call him lst nit’
She
decided to reply, maybe he knew where Rich was.
‘He luvs u…hop u
knw tat’
Though
she felt terrified, she felt a little better.
He talks a lot abt
u, tat’s hw I know a lot abt
u
Maybe
he was not stalking her, but why was Rich talking to his cousin instead of
talking to her.
I love him as
well
She
responded.
He means the
world to me
She
took a sip of her juice as she waited to see where the conversation was headed.
Hw crious r u
abt my cuzo, have u been to his place? Hav u guys done it
Though
she felt uncomfortable, she decided to answer him.
I am very
serious…I have been to his place severally, I have met his paroz
She ignored the last part; it felt weird
for his cousin to want to know all that about their relationship. The
conversation went on for hours; she felt foolish talking to a complete stranger
about her first kiss with Richard as well as other intimate details, to where
she lived and her future plans with Richard. She had even told the cousin where
she worked and he had told her that currently he was not working! As she walked
to her house, the security guard opened the gate for her; she smiled at him for
the first time. ‘Thank you!’ maybe everything was going to be ok. She saw the
caretaker and immediately thought of calling Rich again but he was not picking,
hope quickly disappeared but his cousin sent her a text again.
‘So u n
Rich r gettin married? Lucky u! He’s very hot u know.’
It
made no sense, all the while it seemed like Rich’s male cousin was in love with
him.
‘What your name?
Are you really his cousin?’
She
asked as she bumped into a young woman carrying a small knife and an apple on
one hand and texting with the other as she made her way to fourth floor flat.
‘I am so sorry.’ She said as
their eyes met.
‘It’s ok.’ The young woman smiled back at
her.
Muthoni
watched as the girl walked typing something on her phone, Muthoni walked all
the way to the 4th floor and started searching for her keys again, a
message on her phone interrupted her from Rich’s cousin.
No I am not…I am
his wife, he’s my hazi
we have a two
year old son together
you can bet
there will not another in his life
Not unless I am
dead…
Muthoni dropped her phone in shock, she
looked around in distress, as tears stung her eyes, nothing made sense, the
whole world felt silence, Rich could not have been married, how could she have
missed that, and it felt like a bomb had been dropped in her heart, in her pain
she failed to notice as the same young woman from the stair case approached her
from behind with a phone on one hand and a knife on the other…
THE
STORY OF ‘MWANANCHI’ AND ‘MWENYENCHI’
For the longest time ever I was
fascinated by the TV commercial that ended with the phrase ‘Nchi ni wewe!’ not just me but my little niece as well, you could
never get a word past talkative little Sherrie until that commercial started
and her big brown eyes lit up as she watches in excitement and anticipation, I
doubt she understands what it all means, but the way the voice of the child
echos ‘nchi ni wewe!’ They do it with
power and finality and so much passion, it always gets to me. I found it so
true, I used to brag that ‘mimi ni
mwenyenchi!’ and correct all the other common wananchi as they commonly
refer to themselves, until my grandfather who should have been among the
wahenga or the wise Englishmen, sold me a different perspective. You see, my
guka, a wise man who only managed to go to school after the struggle for
independence of which he was a part off, a freedom warrior, who will never be
celebrated but the stories of how they hid in forests and caves separated from
their loved ones I will never forget, maybe I should write a memoir in honour
of my grandfather, that way I will force everyone to somehow remember him and
then maybe one day children will read about him in schools and be mesmerized by
his heroism and intrigues in the struggle for independence and proclaim ‘indeed he was true Kenyan hero!’. Whenever I visited that old village, dusty
yet ever green, I can still see the old caves, and that old tree that guka says
hold great stories. Now if only trees could talk, they could help me write the memoir
for my grandfather, not only that, they could help me see the lost story of an
entire generation.
‘There
are two types of Kenyans, mwenyenchi and mwananchi.’ Guka corrected
me.
He was in the city for treatment for his
arthritis, it was really hindering his mobility, and after noticing that we
really loved the television ad he decided to chime in.
‘Guka,’ I thought he
was wrong, maybe he was growing old and though he was educated even though it
was much later in his life. ‘Mwananchi is
a bit offensive, it needs to be struck off the kamusi for good.’ I felt
energized and self belief filled my young heart. ‘We are wenyenchi, we hold the power to change and make this country
better.’
Guka laughed in a cynical manner. ‘Well said, though I’d wish all that energy
that you speak in can be channeled to better use for instance farming.’
Mother laughed, as she woke up from her
slumber, before falling asleep again, she knew, I hated farming with passion.
‘Before
independence my heart was filled with such hope.’ Guka
continued, though he was in his nineties his voice still commanded power. ‘We dreamt of a new Kenya where we were
wenyenchi and not the wananchi…I am still waiting for that day.’ His voice
trailed off, dead but filled with hope, disappointment but never regret.
‘Mwananchi
fought to liberate this nation from colonialism but mwenyenchi is enjoying the
fruits of our struggle, of the blood that we shed, of the lives that were
lost.’
He stopped to see who was listening.
Mother was now fast asleep, father was
now brushing his teeth and would soon ask us to stop what we were doing and
pray. Muthoni was busy watching her favourite soap opera. Guka was a man of
many storied, he is a Njamba nene indeed, after the struggle for independence
was over he enrolled for gumbaro school.
‘Have
you ever appeared on the popular TV news segment of ‘who owns Kenya’?’ Guka asked.
I shook my head no.
‘Then
you are a mwananchi.’
He laughed.
I almost laughed. Guka was watching too
much TV but he was right, wenyenchi are the rich, powerful people who own the
country literally, every once in a while they indulge in a little CSR,
cooperate social responsibility you know for the common mwananchi.
‘Wananchi are the poor masses, the
people classified in voting blocs, the masses that queue for eight hours so
that they can elect their man who at times can be a wenyenchi, wananchi are
rarely voted in, after all they do not have enough money to give handouts to their
fellow wananchi. My friend Ng’ash and I are hustlers in other words ‘wananchi.’ You see that’s the
difference, a mwenyenchi when you ask them how life is, they reply ‘life is good’ but for the wananchi the
response is ‘tunasukumana na maisha,’ or
‘tunahassle.’ God forbid you find a
mwenyenchi riding in a probox or a pick up.
Wananchi line up for hours so that they
can receive meager hand outs from wenyenchi, a kifunga macho that cannot see
them through the next meal, and in exchange for their votes they sign their
death sentence. Wananchi are the people who will foolishly tear each other on
the basis of tribal affiliations, on the basis of ‘our man’ the wenyenchi. Wananchi
are driven around in public service vehicles owned by wenyenchi. Wananchi are
cursed to spend the rest of their lives in queues, at the bank (especially those wananchi banks, you know
them, the one you queue for hours only to be served by a cashier who is rude to
you because you are a mwananchi), at the hospitals, bus stops, elections
queues, it is his fate to stand under the sun for hours.
Being a mwananchi means that your
children are affected by teachers strikes, it also means that when doctor’s go
on strike and your relative is sick, it may be the end of the road for that
person. After a hotly contested elections as the mwananchi fights and kills
fellows like him, wenyenchi calmly leaves the country with his children.’
‘That’s
why they save their money in foreign banks.’ Muthoni chimed in.
Guka and I stopped; shocked that Muthoni
was listening to our conversation.
‘Ok
I am back to watching to TV.’ Her eyes moved quickly back to the
television set.
‘Mwananchi can be likened to a young man
waiting for his parents to die so that he can inherit the land, and at times
parents take a long time before they decide to leave this world at times
leaving the young man in despair since it was all he was living for.’
‘Hint!
Hint!’
Muthoni cut guka off again.
‘What
is your problem?’
I asked her.
‘I
am just saying.’
She responded sarcastically. ‘Happy to be
a girl child.’
‘Wenyenchi
shop in malls.’
Muthoni said jokingly. ‘Wananchi work in
those malls.’ She started laughing. ‘And
I am not talking about you Kimani, you don’t sell anything, you just hand out
pamphlets to wenyenchi as you try to sell products you may never own in your
life.’
I just rolled my eyes.
‘Mwenye
nchi snacks on pizza, M&Ms, Prickles,’ she seemed to be enjoying herself.
‘While mwananchi snacks on sugar canes,
ground nuts za five bob, and KSL’s.’
‘Mwananchi
struggles to secure a student visa to further their education, but Mwenyenchi
and his children enter and leave the country as they wish. For Mwenyenchi he
works less hours but makes more money, while Mwananchi works more for less.’
Guka got up to leave. ‘Mwananchi struggles to make just enough
money to see his children through school, he toils in vain, he acquires degrees
and masters but he never comes close to earning what Mwenyenchi does, his
fortune increases, he is rewarded with jobs that he does not need, he is paid
more than the ordinary mwananchi, yet he works less and does not need the job
anyway.’
‘See.’ Muthoni got up
as the credits went up on her favourite soap. ‘I told you.’
She took her very fat novel and started
walking out of the sitting room. ‘Nchi si
wewe!’
‘That
my grandson is the story of mwananchi and mwenyenchi.’ Guka said as he
walked towards the kitchen. ‘You can try
and bridge the gap, you can decide where you want to be but they will never be
equal, you are either a mwananchi or a mwenyenchi.’
‘Time
for prayer!’ dad
announced as he came back in the living room.
